


Pretty Lies

by still_lycoris



Series: A Lie Hurts Forever [1]
Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anger, Arranged Marriage, Depression, F/M, Family Drama, Lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-21
Updated: 2008-08-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 11:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17486966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: Sachiko always prided herself on being good at telling when her children were lying to her.





	Pretty Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the dn_contest prompt "Sachiko."

Sachiko had never thought of herself as someone who believed other people’s lies. She’d always been able to spot Light and Sayu’s little white lies when they’d been children. She’d known what she was doing. She’d known when Soichiro wasn’t being totally honest with her. She’d always _known._

That was the worst thing really. The feeling that the world was entirely different. That everything she’d ever known had been swept away, leaving her trapped in a dull grey uncertain place where nothing made sense any more. And it was impossible to get away from it all. It was like being drowned in a swamp of cloying grey smoke that she could only sometimes struggle out of.

Sachiko had always looked down on people who talked about _depression_. You just needed to shake things like that off, get on with life. Maybe it wasn’t that easy. Maybe this was how they’d always felt.

Sayu was improving. That was something to cling to. She wasn’t quite _normal_ but she was improving. Having Light around had clearly been good for her. Light was always good for her, right from the start. When she was a baby, Sayu would cry and Light would go in and stroke her cheek and cuddle her until she had stopped crying. He’d always played with her when she’d been little. Sachiko remembered how happy that had made her, having a little boy who wanted to spend so much time with his little sister. She remembered how sad Sayu had been when Light had grown up and become more of a loner. Sayu had always wanted to be around her big brother and that was something that _hadn’t_ changed.

Everything else had.

To her relief, the horrible day that everything had changed was now patchy in her memory. She remembered the surprise of finding Light on the doorstep, the worry that he was sick when she saw his flushed cheeks and over-bright eyes. When she’d asked him, he’d laughed and clutched at her hands and assured her that he’d never felt better in his life. She remembered that. And then there was a funny sort of gap in her memory because then she was sitting down and Sayu was there too, looking more animated than she had for a bit. Except it was bad animation because her breath was funny and her fists were clenched and although Sachiko couldn’t _remember_ hearing it, she knew her son had just told her that he was Kira. She remembered saying something ridiculous then, even _laughing_ as she said it, telling him not to be so silly. He’d stared at her, his eyes utterly icy and said, quite aloofly, “Please don’t be stupid, Mother.”

And she’d known then that he wasn’t being silly.

Sayu had whimpered and Light had turned to her quite soothingly, almost reassuringly. Sachiko listened numbly to his reassurances, to his promises that it was all right, that he was still Sayu’s brother, he still loved her, he’d done this for _them_ …

(oh, it would be nice to believe that, be nice to believe that Light was still the same boy that he’d always be and that he cared for other people. But she didn’t. She _couldn’t_ believe it because it wasn’t true. What Light had done had _not_ been for them. It had been for himself.)

He didn’t bother to justify himself to them very much. Why should he? He was _Kira_. He didn’t have to justify himself to his mother and sister. He’d _never_ had to justify himself to his family. Light was perfect, he always had been and he didn’t do things wrong, he just _didn’t_. Oh, a few childish naughtinesses, a few things with girls that worried Sachiko but nothing bad, nothing _wrong_. She’d tried not to worry about him, tried not to fret … and now …

Sayu seemed more accepting. She cried and shivered and slapped Light when he tried to hug her but later, she’d come downstairs and apologised to him and leaned against him as he’d made coffee for them all. Sachiko had watched, feeling … detached. It wasn’t a bad feeling. She rather liked it. Since Soichiro had died, everything had hurt and now it didn’t so much. It was wrong of course. She knew she ought to be feeling things, remembering things, trying to get out of this grey cloud. But she didn’t want to. She _couldn’t_. And if she did, everything would be so awful that she didn’t think she could bear it. At least this way, she could carry on. And she _had_ to carry on. Her daughter needed her. _Light_ needed her. Didn’t he? He’d come to _her_ , he had, so … didn’t that mean something?

After his confession, he’d moved back in with them, explaining that while he sorted things out, he wanted to be somewhere quiet, out of the way and with his family. Sachiko hadn’t questioned him. It wasn’t as though he was difficult to have around. She closed her ears to as much of his “business matters” as she could and to credit him, he did keep it out of the way.

“I won’t be under your feet too long,” he assured Sachiko, smiling his comforting smile. “I need to sort a lot of things out though.”

“Doesn’t Misa mind?” she’d asked and Light had shrugged and given a rueful little smile.

“She understands,” he said. “It’s a little complicated. But she knows I need to do this.”

Yes, of course she did. Misa had always accepted everything Light had ever offered her. She probably didn’t care that he was Kira. She didn’t care that he had lied to her every day they’d been together (for they’d only met once Kira’s killings had begun, hadn’t they?) She didn’t care that Light had killed thousands of people, driven his own father to the grave – 

The glass she was holding shattered in her hand. She stared blankly at the thin ribbon of blood as Light fetched her a towel, asked her if she was all right, scolded her affectionately for her carelessness. Sachiko didn’t care. What was there to care about? It was only blood. Blood didn’t matter.

Mikami showed up regularly at the house. He was unfailingly polite to her, politeness that almost boarded on reverence. It disturbed her rather, particularly when she realised exactly who he was. What he did for Light. Even then, it was hard to dislike him. He was _so_ unfailingly polite, so eager to please. And he was always sweet to Sayu, fetching her things and even talking to her. Sayu blushed a little when he did this and she had confided to her mother that she thought Mikami-kun was “cute.” Sachiko didn’t think he was. She thought Mikami was far closer to “handsome” than “cute.” He’d be better looking still if he’d only do something about his hair.

In front of her, Mikami always called Light “Light-san.” It seemed to take him monstrous effort, he would sweat and swallow and sometimes even clench his fists as he did it. She’d first heard him call Light “God” one night when she’d come downstairs for a drink of water and heard them talking in the living room. Peering in through the door, she’d seen Light on the sofa and Mikami sitting on the floor beside him, leaning his head against Light’s thigh, looking blissfully content. Light had been lazily playing with Mikami’s hair as they discussed things that Sachiko hadn’t wanted to hear about and whenever Mikami spoke to Light, he addressed him as God. And he _meant_ it, he so clearly _meant_ it that it was just sickening and wrong. Sachiko had never really seen herself as religious but she knew blasphemy when she saw it. Her son was _not_ a God.

She didn’t let them know she’d seen them. What would be the point? If Light had heard her move away, well, it didn’t matter. Very little really did. And he certainly didn’t care about her opinion any more. Perhaps he never really had.

He pretended that he did though. He’d come to her first about his “idea”, even though Sachiko knew there was nothing she could do to stop him. He wanted Sayu and Mikami to marry.

“They’d make a good match,” he said persuasively. “Mikami likes Sayu very much and I think she likes him. He’s a prosecuting attorney, he makes good money and he’d treat her wonderfully. Father would have approved of the match.”

“Why do you want your sister to get married?” she asked, not looking at him.

“I want her to be happy,” he answered. “I want Mikami to be happy. He’s … a good friend of mine. Don’t you like him?”

It was hard to answer that question. Of course she liked Mikami. In theory, he was a good match for Sayu. But she knew, she _knew_ and it was all so awful and she didn’t know what to do about it, she didn’t know if she dared tell Light, she didn’t know what to do …

“Father would have approved of the match,” Light said again and she wondered vaguely what would happen if you slapped Lord Kira in the face. Probably nothing good. She didn’t care enough to try anyway.

She spoke to Sayu about it some days later when Light was out doing “something.” They sat together on the couch, watching some talk-show that was going on about Lord Kira and Sachiko found the courage to ask her what Sayu though of her potential husband.

“It’s an okay idea,” Sayu said, not looking at her. “I like Teru-kun. He’s … sweet. I can see why Light would like me to get married. He just wants to see us all safe and settled. He’s going to have to travel soon, did he tell you? Discuss things with … with people.”

“No,” Sachiko said. “He doesn’t tell me things like that.”

She felt Sayu shiver and wondered what was going on in Sayu’s head. Was Sayu tangled up in this grey mess too? Had this been how Sayu had felt during those awful months of catatonia; when she’d done nothing but sleep and eat (and very little of that)? They’d never discussed their feelings about Light since discovering he was Kira. And since discovering Light was Kira, Sayu hadn’t once mentioned her father. At least, not to Sachiko. Was that significant? Or not?

“Teru would take good care of me,” Sayu ventured, her voice tentative. “And I wouldn’t forget you. I’d visit you whenever you wanted. And when we have kids, you can visit as often as you want too. I’ll need you … ”

Sachiko was surprised to find that the reassurance meant nothing to her, though she nodded and smiled a little when Sayu said it. That wasn’t what was worrying her. She didn’t think for a moment that Mikami was the type to keep her daughter or grandchildren away from her or even to neglect her. No doubt, he would be most solicitous of making sure she was well provided for and not lonely and able to visit them whenever she wanted. In some ways, Light was right – Mikami would be an excellent match for Sayu.

“Mum,” Sayu whispered, her eyes fixed firmly on the screen. “You don’t think that … I mean … Teru-kun … Light … ”

But her already stilted sentence trailed off into silence and she gave a small shrug as though to say it didn’t matter. Of course she did, Sachiko though. She had brought Sayu up to be a decent, good girl. Decent, good girls did not ask if their brothers had an ulterior motive for the partner they suggested. Decent, good girls did not suggest that the man they were almost engaged to was infatuated with their brother. And decent, good girls did not suggest that their brother might not be adverse to responding to that infatuation.

The engagement was announced and Sachiko noticed that she got a lot of calls from people she had barely spoken to for months congratulating her. She wondered how public the knowledge about Light was now. How many people knew. She hadn’t tried to find out. She didn’t want to think about it. She never wanted to think about it. She thanked everyone for their good wishes, wrote their names down and added them to the list of people that Sayu should think about inviting. Not that Sayu was doing much of the organising. Mostly, it was Light and Misa who were doing that.

“Misa wants this wedding to go well,” Misa said, quite flatly to Sachiko when they were together in the kitchen. “Misa hopes that then Mikami Teru will leave her Light _alone_.”

“Do you?” Sachiko asked, her own voice equally flat. “Why?”

She saw Misa pause, then the girl shrugged her shoulders. 

“Misa just finds Mikami Teru difficult,” she said at last. “He’s always all over her Light and Misa-Misa finds it annoying. Misa’s sure he’s very nice _really_.”

Of course, Misa-Misa had noticed the infatuation too. How ever could she not? Did she worry about Light as well? No, why would she? Misa couldn’t believe that Light would ever want anyone but her so why would she ever think that Light’s head could be turned by another man? Sachiko didn’t think it, not really. It was silly. But everything felt so different, now. Even Misa seemed different. More on edge, her face harder, colder. She’d always been lively and bubbly and happy. Why the change?

As if it could be anything else.

“Do you still intend to marry Misa-Misa?” she heard Sayu asking once Misa had left.

“Of course,” Light said carelessly. “At least, I expect so. There’s so much to do right now though so I really feel the wedding should wait. Your wedding is more important. Misa has plenty of people to take care of her.”

Sachiko wondered if Misa saw it that way. Maybe that was why the change. She wondered if Light really had any intention of marrying the girl. He’d often seemed … indifferent about her. On his rare visits _before_ , he’d sometimes come alone and Sachiko had always asked him what Misa was doing that night, where she was. And so often, he’d simply shrugged and smiled and said _“Oh, Misa’s just … somewhere.”_ as though that was a sufficient answer. _“Misa’s fine, she doesn’t mind.” “Misa’s working … something, I don’t know what, she doesn’t tend to say …”_

Misa was still working, she supposed. She hadn’t asked and Misa hadn’t volunteered. Out-of-character, that. Strange. Maybe Misa was hurting too. But hadn’t she always loved Kira? Wasn’t this a dream come true for her?

“I wish you were happier, Mother,” Light said one day as he watched her cooking. “You look so tired and sad all the time. Is there something I can do?”

He’d always been like that. Always been the child who wanted to help out, offered to do something useful, smiled obligingly and reached out a helping hand. The good child, the best child. And she didn’t know what it meant any more. Was he still a good boy, deep down? Or was he spoilt forever? Did any of what he said mean anything?

She wanted it to. She wanted to love him just as she always had. She wanted to boast, to say _That’s my boy there, he’s perfect, the cleverest child and so well-behaved too …_ She wanted to say that. She wanted to say _everything_. She wanted him to be _perfect_.

(was that why it had all turned out like this? Was it because of her? Had she somehow managed to mess everything up, ruin Light by expecting too much of him? But she’d thought he enjoyed the life he’d lived. She’d thought his gifts were natural, not a burden. Oh, sometimes he’d seemed _lonely_ but boys often were at that age, weren’t they? And he’d had them and he’d had his sister and it wasn’t that he _didn’t_ have friends … oh, what was the use of thinking like this? It didn’t mean anything now anyway.)

On the night before the wedding, she listened to Sayu sorting out her bedroom. She even helped her a little, looking at some of her daughter’s old things. She watched Sayu throw out old pictures of boys she’d had crushes on and suddenly found herself remembering Matsuda Touta. When he’d stumbled through the idea of wanting her daughter, she’d felt the urge to crack him over the head with the tray she was holding. She’d been glad when Soichiro said that he would never let Sayu marry a policeman. It wasn’t that she didn’t _like_ Matsuda Touta, it was only that … only …

Of course, the word was _hadn’t_ not _didn’t_. He was dead, wasn’t he? That young man, her husband’s protégée … he’d been _sweet_ and good and loyal and Soichiro had always talked about what a wonderful policeman Matsuda would be with a bit of training. He’d been so police to Sachiko, chatting with her so eagerly, so hopefully … longing for approval. And he was dead now, wasn’t he, him and Aizawa-san and Ide-san and Mogi-san … and oh God, it was so awful, so _awful_.

“Mum?”

Sachiko suddenly realised that she was crying. Sayu was staring at her, her eyes huge with panic.

“Mum? Oh _Mum_ , don’t … ”

But now she’d started, Sachiko couldn’t stop. Leaning down, she buried her face in her hands and sobbed hopelessly. She felt Sayu’s arms go around her and then Sayu was crying too, her tears soaking Sachiko’s shoulder. She’d always used to do that. Cry in Sachiko’s arms. Light never had. She couldn’t remember him crying since he was about seven years old and that had been when he’d broken his arm. Another sign of something? Would she ever stop wondering what she’d done wrong? Why it had happened like this? Why all the world had gone so horribly wrong for them?

Maybe Sayu would be better off away from her. Maybe married to Teru, she would have a better chance of some sort of normality. Maybe they could help each other. Maybe … maybe …

But maybe she’d misjudged everything. Maybe Sachiko didn’t know her daughter either. Maybe she didn’t know anything about any of her family. Maybe everything in her whole world was just lies.

Maybe she would never know.

After the wedding, she and Light came home alone together. It was the first time they had been alone since he’d told them. They sat in silence at opposite ends of the table, Sachiko not able to look at him.

“Do you hate me?” Light suddenly asked and his voice was small, uncertain. Like he was a child again. She hadn’t heard him sound like that for so long. Everything always seemed to come so easily to him, he never seemed to want reassurance or comforting. He was always … so confident.

“I never wanted it to happen this way,” Light said, and his voice was pleading. “I never wanted … you know I idolised father, I wanted him to … I wouldn’t have … Mother, I don’t know what to say to you, I don’t but … but I love you. I don’t want you to hate me!”

Did he mean it, she wondered. How could she ever be sure of anything that he said, ever again? Maybe it was the truth, maybe there were grains of truth … the tone of his voice didn’t matter any more. Nothing mattered. She would never be able to trust her son ever again.

“Mum? Please … just tell me. Do you hate me?”

She looked at him. At his big, liquid eyes, his slightly quivering mouth. The utter _honesty_ in his expression. He’d always radiated that honesty.

“No,” she lied. “I could never hate you, Light.”


End file.
